Prajna
by omens
Summary: You pretend its fine, but inside you’re burning. Alex-centric. Picks up after the movie.


**Name:** Chris

**Title:** Prajna

**Fandom:** Wizards of Waverly Place

**Genre:** General/Angst

**Rating:** T

**Summary:** You pretend its fine, but inside you're _burning_. [Alex-centric.] Picks up after the movie.

……

_All things truly wicked start from an innocence. _

_- Ernest Hemingway _

……

Justin barges into the room while you're changing the next night, long after your parents have gone to bed and Max is asleep in the hammock on the balcony. No one hears the jump of your heart when you realize that you're half naked in front of your brother. No one sees the flush rise up your neck.

No one but Justin, who widens his eyes and begins to stutter, promptly turning around and heading back out of the room.

You stand there and you shake. _You shake_. Your breath starts to shudder in your lungs, burning, and you just want it to stop.

Justin doesn't come back in the hotel room until after you've turned off the light, until enough time has passed for you to be asleep. But you're not. You lay there, away from him, feeling his eyes heavy on the back of your head, the line of your shoulders, visible above the blankets. He's ten feet away, moving silently as he gets ready for bed, and you _feel him_.

……

Justin doesn't look you in the eye at breakfast. He sits on the other side of the so expensive it looks cheap table in this island paradise you're in and keeps his gaze on his plate, as if his scrambled eggs are the most fascinating thing on the planet.

You're all going home today, back to New York and the sub shop, and your parents are still none the wiser. They've accepted that something about this vacation has made their children act weirder-weirder than usual-but they don't know how close they came to not having their children at all. And its better that way.

Some things should never be talked about.

……

Justin sits in the middle on the plane home. Max needs the aisle seat since he gets up every five seconds, you like the window and that vague sense of privacy it gives you. So he gets the middle, he gets the short stick.

You've never felt bad about that until now.

Your eyes mist and you feel like an idiot. Crying over a stupid _seat_.

Who does that?

……

Somewhere over Georgia you fall asleep, but its restless and you squirm around, half aware of it, because you can't get comfortable and whether that's the fault of the limited space you have or the dream, you're not sure. Snapshots fill your head, of things you don't know how to feel about anymore, and this sleep is less than peaceful while these things loop on their figurative reel in your mind.

Back in the jungle, Justin asleep behind you and even though the world is coming apart around you, you've never felt safer.

He's looking at you like you're a stranger and to him, and you are. He's your rock, your security, your tether to the universe, and he's gone. You're alone, now, here, without him beside you.

Firelight hits his face, and it's not cold but he offers you his shirt anyway. So like him. Justin is thoughtful, and selfless, and if anyone can fix this, he can. He has to. You can't live this way. You don't know if you even will.

You've given up your powers, and everything's as it should be and he looks at you with awe, with pride, making your heart swell. He breaks the moment and just like that, everything's _as it should be_.

Jerking awake, you're sweating, and the first thing you see is Justin's eyes on your face. He stays silent even as his face goes red. "Sorry," he mumbles and just like that, you know.

……

When you're back home you expect everything to go back to normal.

You expect _you_ will go back to normal.

Only you don't. If anything, it gets worse. And to top it all, you don't even know what it is. You just know that something is not right. You feel…wrong. Like the stone didn't put everything back, like it missed something, added something.

Because you want Justin in your sight all the time and that is nowhere close to normal.

……

It takes almost two weeks, but Justin finally speaks to you outside of absolute necessity.

Your music is loud, way loud, because it helps. The thudding bass line and repetitive drums turn the panic in your head into a dull static, the noises canceling each other out.

"Can you please turn that down?" he asks, more of a demand.

"Can't you just wear earplugs or something?" You don't look up at him. Instead you flip a page in your magazine, pretending to ignore him even as every part of your body tenses up. "I know you have a whole stash for when you have a big test."

He doesn't say anything, so you look up.

Justin is pretty easy to read, usually. There is not a subtle bone in his body, not an ounce of him that's agreeable to deception or subterfuge. You like that. Most days. It's always easier to worm what you want out of someone when you can tell what's going on inside their head and Justin is your most frequent target.

Really, he makes it too easy.

When your eyes meet his, for the first time since you can remember, you have no clue what's going through his head. All you do know is that his eyes are dark, his cheeks are red, and you can see his Adam's apple bobbing when he swallows.

You gulp yourself in response.

Without another word he turns and leaves. You exhale. Hard.

That was…weird.

……

You end up staying awake all night. It's not that you can't sleep-you don't want to. Each time you close your eyes, that weird dream from the plane comes back to you.

God its so cliché.

Knowing that however, doesn't make it any better. You are Alex Russo and though no one can accuse you of being fully aware of the cause and effect ripple, the thoughts just don't stop. They beat against your brain, over and over and over again, until you have to bury your face in your pillow and scream until they pass.

Finally sleep comes as the early light makes your room glow pink, but it doesn't last. You wake less than an hour later with a headache and the sheets a tangled mess around your legs. The sound of the door opening in the room beside yours hits your ears and then the shower turns on.

With a grunt of protest, you get up and go about your day.

……

First day back at school after the break and already they've handed out the most lame assignment ever.

_Where do you see yourself in ten years?_

You're a wizard, not a psychic. How are you supposed to know what could happen down the road?

Harper, of course, has her entire future mapped out in her head down to the smallest detail and has for as long as you've known her. Resisting the urge to tell her that rethinking might be a good idea, you duck your head down and pretend to be working on your own assignment. Really, you don't want to see Harper's macaroni sculpture of her and Justin's wedding.

You'll say, if you could be anyone, that you would be a rock star, a designer, an artist. Hell, you'd even pick the name of some random but not slutty actress if put on the spot.

You don't mean any of it. But this is school and high school is not a place to show your weaknesses. Every single teen movie ever made can attest to that. High school is where you pick your persona and tell people what they want to hear, for your own self preservation.

Acting like you could care less (some days it's actually not an act) is easy enough, but you do care. And you don't want anyone to know that. Being tough and rebellious and independent gives you a freedom you wouldn't have otherwise, to be who you want, and it's accepted.

You're not above telling people what they need to hear, never have been. You lie as easily as you breathe, but when you stood on that field and told Justin how you really feel about him…you meant every word.

"_You're everything I've ever wanted to be."_

There were no lies then. The lump in your throat took up all the space lies would have needed to come out.

All you've ever, will ever, really want is to be someone your brother is proud of. Respects. Loves.

Hang the rest.

(So long as you don't get stuck with a desk job.)

……

The day Juliet tells Justin she's moving he promises that they can make it work. You listen on the stairs of the von Heussen's shop and hope someone doesn't come along and knock you down. That marble would hurt like a bitch.

He's delusional. You know that, Juliet knows that. Justin probably even knows that himself but he's too nice a guy to actually admit that once Juliet's coffin is out of the Tri State area they'll be more or less done. The only real question is how long are they going to drag it out.

You leaves when things get quite, knowing what the silence means and unable to just stand here and…not…listen to it.

Outside the door you pause to take a deep breath. There is something going on here, something that's making you follow Justin, watch him, want to be around him all the time. Something that is slowly making you feel like a stranger in your own head. You would ask for help but the only people who could do anything are the ones who can never know.

Unless…

The thought only appears, doesn't get focused on, for the overhead bell jingles and then Justin is there, looking you in the eyes with an expression you can't interpret.

He looks away, and brushes past you, the ends of your hair catching on the fabric over his shoulder.

Clinging to him. Subconsciously.

And that's when it hits you.

He looked…

Guilty.

……

Getting through the Wizard network is so easy. Really, it's the best way to go anywhere. Too bad you can't take it to school.

Professor Crumbs looks surprised when he says to come in and you open the door. "Alex Russo. This is most surprising." Narrowing his eyes until they all but disappear, he asks you to sit down. "I hope I don't offend you by asking if you've somehow orchestrated the end of the world?"

You grin, relieved. "Not yet."

You tell him. Not all of it cause that would be majorly bizarre. Just enough for him to get the gist of your problem. "Is there any way to know if something got messed up?"

"I'm afraid not," he says. "You just need to trust that all will right itself in the end."

"In the end?" You cannot be hearing this right. "What about the right now? I'm not-" You break off, terrified of what could slip out if you aren't careful.

And careful has never really been your thing.

He waits, patiently, for you to finish.

You resist the urge to stick out your tongue.

"I've been…feeling…things. Things I shouldn't be. I'm having all these…thoughts and weird dreams and I'm jealous and possessive and confused-"

Crumbs's eyes are kind, sympathetic. He looks at you with more than concern and less than pity. Its in between that should help. It doesn't. Only makes you itch and feel hot all over at being this honest with another person.

"I'm scared."

The admission leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

……

Justin is in the lair when you get back, and he stares at you when you walk through the glass, smoothing down your hair from the trip.

"Where have you been?" he demands. Right now he's wearing that 'shame on you' face and you can feel the judgment and accusation from across the room. "What are you up to?"

Indignation rises up in you. You're not always up to something, and you say so.

Laughing, Justin closes the book he was reading. "Yeah, sure, and I'm the Queen of England."

"That would explain the shirt."

He glances down at his sweater and rubs a hand over it, protective. Throwing a sneer your way as he leaves the room, a pressure that's been pushing down on you since you got home from the Caribbean eases up, giving you some space.

Maybe you're not doomed after all.

……

Justin shoots you dirty looks all through dinner. He's so sure you're up to something.

Unable to stop yourself, you grin at him, smug and not even trying to hide it.

……

The night you wake up and your bedroom door is closing on its own, you realize.

It's not just you.

……

Justin goes back to ignoring you the next day.

……

It takes all of half a day before you've had enough.

He jumps when you barge into his room and then looks at you like you're the harbinger of the apocalypse.

Wow. You didn't even know you knew words like that. Guess he's rubbing off on you more than you ever realized.

"This," you tell him, gesturing between his body on the bed and yours just inside the door, "has to stop."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Even when not making eye contact he's still got a tell. Hopefully he never takes up poker.

"God are you're a bad liar."

"Guess you're the only one who got that gene," he snaps.

Ice runs down your spine. At least it feels that way. Like someone is trailing ice cubes down the length of your back and goosebumps pop up all over your skin.

Your voice drops. First sign that your emotions, which you always try to keep under control, are taking over. The only time that control ever breaks is when your brother is involved. "It's not just you."

He looks dumbstruck. Under normal circumstances, it would be funny. "What?"

Feeling heat flood your cheeks, you look away, so uncomfortable it's almost funny. You've just never really had to do this, force a guy to admit that there is something going on. Not even Dean was this tough to crack. At least he gave _some_ signs.

But Dean isn't Justin, could never _be_ Justin. That's the difference.

"It's not just you. I…I feel it too."

You've never fully understood the term 'deer in the headlights' until now.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He won't look at you. Again.

If that's the way he wants to play this, so be it. "Fine," you snap and make sure to slam the door as loud, as hard, as possible on the way out. You hear something fall and break.

You smirk.

……

Turns out you're a better actress than even you would have thought.

Being deceitful and tricky and generally just being Alex all these years has given you some useful skills after all, besides the ability to hide anything.

Take that Justin.

……

You pretend it's fine, but inside you're _burning_.

He avoids you and you go out of your way to get in his face as much as possible.

It feels good. It feels _right_, to be back in familiar patterns.

……

Juliet breaks up with Justin a few days later.

By the end of the week he has a date with some girl in his advanced trig class. Her name is Sophia, and she's a cheerleader.

_Justin_ has a date with a _cheerleader_.

Since when does Justin even talk to cheerleaders, let alone ask one out? Since when do cheerleaders take advanced trig?

You sit in class and fume. Plots run through your head while Harper nudges you to pay attention.

A human heart, your science teacher explains, and it's the only thing you hear at all, moves blood, _is_ blood, is responsible for all the blood in a body, but right now, _your_ heart, you feel it _bleed_.

When you see Sophia in the hall after class your foot shoots out on its own accord.

Justin glares at you over her head as he helps her pick her books up off the floor. You smile and walk away, laughing under your breath.

……

He knocks on your bedroom door when he gets home from his date. In your cupcake pajama bottoms, you suddenly feel so, so young.

"You were right," he whispers.

You're left standing in your doorway with your mouth hanging open and staring at his retreating back.

……

You get sick of it all and leave one day, just taking off in the middle of a shift where Justin keeps running into you with that damn tray of his.

It's not the first time you've left a shift early, but this time feels different.

You walk the streets, stewing with anger until you're suddenly crying and by now you've reached Times Square. You left your purse at home as well as your phone, so you walk into the nearby Starbucks and ask to use the phone.

You must look a mess since you didn't put on waterproof mascara today so no doubt there are black streaks running down your face. The guy must feel sorry for you. He pushes a cordless phone in your direction and then sets an extra large brownie frappucino in front of you, on the house.

"Dad, can you come get me?"

……

The caffeine wreaks havoc on your already haywire emotions. Your fingers bounce on your knees, your head pounding. Your dad sits quietly beside you in the cab and you can feel his eyes on the side of your face the entire way home.

"Alex, you know you can talk to me, right? Even if it's…you know, a female thing," he says outside the sub shop.

Justin has his eyes trained on the two of you from behind the counter.

You can't do this anymore.

"I know, Daddy."

……

You're so tired of this.

Justin doesn't come down to dinner, saying he has homework and it's too close to the end of the year to not focus. He wants to be valedictorian.

It's a typical Justin response that no one questions it.

No one but you.

You knock on his door, your foot tapping impatiently and impossibly loud in the quiet apartment.

No answer.

Again, harder this time, and he opens, bleary eyed and rumpled, his hair going everywhere on his head.

He jumps to at once, slipping into his prescribed role like a second skin. "Alex, what's wrong?"

Before you can rationalize your way out of it you snake a hand around the back of his neck and pull his face down to yours, kiss him hard, empty all of the weeks of frustration and confusion and general suckage into him.

He kisses back.

When you pull away, his eyes are still closed. He opens them slowly, looking drunk.

"Now its up to you," you say, and turn on your heel.

Justin is a lot of things, but he's not one to pass up a dare.

……

Three hours and he's knocking on your door.

You so knew it.

……

'_**Prajna' is described as an intuitive understanding of truth and a direct awareness not achieved by intellectual or rational means in Buddhist teachings. **_


End file.
